


It's the Fear

by Destiny_Apocalypse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension, cuddling for warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_Apocalypse/pseuds/Destiny_Apocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke and Anders get to know each other a bit more during a trip to the Wounded Coast. Takes place in Act I.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the Fear

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of headcannon I wanted to write out; I always had the idea that Anders began developing feelings for Hawke pretty early in the game but wouldn't act on them, and it also gave me a chance to throw in my favorite cliche trope of cuddling for warmth in a cave

_This was going to be a disaster._

It had started out innocently enough; his clinic was running low on supplies and he was fresh out elfroot, spindleweed, and other local herbs that he made use of when healing magic alone was not enough to treat a patient. He certainly didn’t have enough money to purchase any in the markets, so he’d asked if he could accompany Hawke next time she took a visit to the Wounded Coast so he could at least gather some himself. 

He heard her arrive before she even entered the clinic the next day; the unmistakable sound of light chain mail armor that alerted him to her presence. He’d grown accustomed to the distinct sound of her own battle robes compared to the clatter of templar armor, but it still didn’t stop a surge of panic that he felt every time he heard the sound of metal armor approaching the clinic. He gathered his things, looking up to greet her when she entered. An unwanted tightness fluttered in his chest at the sight of her face crinkling into a wan smile for him. 

 She walked through the door confidently, as if she didn’t have a care in the world, as if she too wasn’t an apostate that was living in Lowtown and just as vulnerable to being taken by the templars as he was. So many mages wore a haunted, vulnerable look, always looking uncomfortable in their own bodies. When Hawke turned her gaze to him, he could see the steely determination in her eyes of someone who’d never been subjugated by a templar.  

 He really couldn’t figure her out; she was quiet, especially given the company that she normally kept but when she spoke in her quiet demeanor, she had a _presence_ about her that commanded attention. It had certainly captured his. 

They hadn’t known each other very long; it had been a scant few months since that day she wandered into his clinic asking about the maps, and that same night where she’d seen who he really was, seen what he was capable of and became the first one to spill his secret to. 

And she just accepted it with a thoughtful nod of her head, instead of calling him an abomination and running out the door as he had expected. She hadn’t exactly condoned his merge with Justice, but she hadn’t condemned him either and he couldn’t believe she still wanted anything to do with him after. And not just as a healer on her mercenary jobs, but she seemed to genuinely enjoy inviting him to her gatherings at the Hanged Man for drinks and cards.   

He thought she might have been interested in helping him with in work underground, but when he would try and open a conversation about the mage’s plight she would decline politely but insistently. In fact just trying to talk about their situation in general made her clam up; he didn’t understand it. She was a mage, but didn’t seem to care about what others like her had to go through being in the Gallows. 

It was so frustrating. He wanted to be angry at her for it, but she treated him cordially, as a friend would and so it was hard to be mad at her for long. She was attractive too, and the small smile she sometimes bestowed him affected him in ways he couldn’t really control. It certainly made the dreams he’d been having of the woman wildly inappropriate in more ways than one. 

**I have seen those...dreams. They are impossible fantasies and indeed inappropriate for this one you call a friend.**  

_Maker, of course you have._  

“Anders?” Hawke’s cocked her head to the side, fixing him with lopsided smile. Maker help him, if she knew how that wry smile affected him.  “Are we ready to go?”

He quenched the rising objections from Justice, and looked past Hawke, surprised to find her alone. “Aren’t any of the others coming?”

Hawke sighed, putting her hands on her hips dramatically as she toed some of the dirt on the clinic floor with a boot. “Aveline and Fenris were going to join us, but Aveline was called away to some mess in Lowtown, and Fenris...well,” 

“He didn’t want to accompany a _mage_ , am I right?” He couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice, but secretly he was glad that those two couldn’t make it. Being around a member of the guard who was one step from the templars and knew of his condition and made no secret of her mistrust..and then that miserable elf? No, it was all too good that they wouldn’t be joining them. 

But...that meant he’d be alone with her. The woman who was driving him as mad as the spirit inhabiting his body. He could feel Justice’s disapproval at the prospect roiling around inside him like a living thing.

“Well you have to admit, he ran away from a city of crazy blood mages to find himself in the company of three...shall we say...unconventional apostates? Give him some time to get used to the idea.”

“You don’t need to make excuses for him,” Anders grumbled, strapping his staff to the harness on his back. “He’ll never truly accept us, Hawke...you should know that. He’s a danger to our kind.”

“Yes, so you’ve said before,” Hawke said, looking weary, her light tone of voice dimming at his bristling anger. “But I happen to be quite a good judge of character, and I don’t believe he would ever harm us.”

_Maybe not you...but that elf would not hesitate to crush my heart in my chest if he had the chance._

**He will never get that chance. Our cause is just. We will destroy any who obstruct the injustice of the mage’s plight.**

The tension corded through Anders before he could stop it, and he knew she could see the flash of blue escaping from the fade to curl out through his eyes. She had to notice his labored breathing as he squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to contain the raging spirit inside him. He knew she noticed all of it, but she didn’t mention anything out loud while his breathing returned to normal; for which he was immensely grateful. She was always so patient when he struggled with his inner turmoil with Justice, and he appreciated it more than he could put into words. It meant so much to have a friend that did not think of him as an abomination. 

“S-Sorry,” Anders stumbled over his words slightly after regained use over his voice.

“Now shall we go? I am looking forward to a quiet afternoon gathering flowers.”

And just like that, she defused the awkwardness again with a simple joke. He blinked rapidly, feeling himself return to whatever passed for normal these days. The anger flowed out of him as a grin quirked the corners of his mouth upwards. “It should be a picnic...if not for the bandits, smugglers and slavers that like to hide out there.”

“Oh, so that’s why they call it the Wounded Coast.” The woman grinned back, clearly glad to see the conversation diverting to an easier topic. “Well, you have that electricity trick, and I know how to set people on fire...so I think we should be able to take care of ourselves.”

“Sweetheart, you haven’t even begun to see my electricity trick.” The words spilled from his mouth without a second thought and brought forth another rolling surge of disapproval from Justice that made his throat tighten up. It was a quip more fitting to an Anders from a few years ago, who had not a care other than escaping his prison and hiking up his robes to any willing flesh that would offer a comforting embrace.

Hawke, to her credit, just laughed with genuine mirth at his comment. “Oho! The healer does have a flirty side...and here I thought Isabela was joking.” Her smile curved into something wicked. “Maybe you can teach me that trick sometime.”

Anders flushed, closing his mouth tightly as he didn’t trust himself to respond appropriately. His mind couldn’t decide which to fixate more on; the thought of Hawke asking about him to Isabela, or the thought of the two of them alone, practicing magic together-

**This woman has begun to influence you poorly. Her presence is interfering with our plans.**

_Shut up. Just...shut up. We’re just going to get some more supplies. That’s it. Can I do that at least without your disapproval?_

If he were stronger, he’d tell her to postpone the trip for another time...it would not even be very hard to just convince her it was too dangerous for just the two of them. She would frown and argue, but she would give in eventually. He knew she needed to find paying work to fund her expedition, not go out and pick weeds with an abomination. But...he he wanted very badly to spend time alone with her somewhere other than his fantasies, away from brooding elves, gossiping dwarves and pirates that knew too much about his past. 

“We’d best be off then, shouldn’t we?”

**Just remember your purpose. You cannot have her.**

_I know. Maker, I know that._

***

The sun had climbed high in the sky before Anders and Hawke reached the outskirts of the wounded coast. The weather seemed fair, but the dark clouds coming from the north did not look promising, and the mage hoped they could get their work done quickly before it took a turn for the worse. 

He was able to gather a few samples of elfroot before trouble found them after a few hours. Anders was bent down, pulling out the plant by the roots when he heard the crackle of magic being pulled from the fade. Before Anders could even ready his staff, Hawke had stunned the pair of bandits that had thought they found two easy, unarmored travelers with a spray of entropic magic that left them doubled over in pain. Drawing forth his own mana, he channelled a lethal current of lightning and directed into the helpless bandits. It stopped their hearts instantly and cooked their flesh from the inside. 

Anders wiped some sweat from his brow, tucking the elfroot still in his hand away into his bag. He glanced sidelong at his traveling companion. “I didn’t know you knew entropic magic. Not many mages outside the circle do because it's difficult to master...where did you learn that?”

“My father taught me. Well, kind of.”

“He _kind_ of taught you?” Anders knew that her father had been a mage, and that he had died before the Hawke family had escaped the blight...but not much more than that. He realized with a start he really didn’t know much about Hawke at all. He knew she was sarcastic, a little on the quiet side, and she certainly had a knack for picking the unlikeliest friends...but other than that he knew little.

Hawke didn’t answer right away, instead bending down to rifle through the remains of the bandits that had cooled down enough to touch. She clicked her tongue as she pulled a silver amulet forth. “You really want to know?” She sounded amused.

“Well...yes!” Anders said in a rush of breath, hoping he didn’t sound to eager. The desire to know more about the woman burned inside him. “I mean, it’s rare to find mages that are as competent as you without any formal training. You know my feelings on the circle, but at least it’s a place to study and practice the proper application of magic safely. 

“Well, he taught us the basics, how to keep our magic hidden and to avoid attention,” Hawke continued after a pause, tucking the amulet into a pocket in her robes. “He didn’t want to teach us anything more advanced, at least until we got older...I think he was just afraid we would do something foolish. We were children, after all.”

Anders nodded, knowing of many mages at the circle who had done just that; a child letting loose a fireball or lightning bolt had a habit of drawing attention, which in turn only drew the templars down on them as they were dragged away from their families. His own memory of the family barn burning down flashed in the back of his mind. 

“Father kept a grimoire with his notes and research. For weeks I would sneak into its hiding place and study his notes. He was circle trained, here in Kirkwall and had brought a lot of his research with him when he escaped.”

“I imagine he found out, eventually?”

Hawke looked up, her eyes lost in a distant memory. “I had been quarreling with Carver for one thing or another, and I retaliated by using a sleep spell on him so I could draw all over his face with some ink. Problem was, I’d botched the spell, and Carver ended up being asleep for a whole day and sent mother and father into a panic. They thought I might have put him in a coma.”

“Ah. Suddenly Carver’s sour attitude makes a little more sense,” Anders smiled, imagining a younger Carver being tormented by a pair of magic using sisters. Hawke scowled at the comment.

“I assure you, he quite deserved it, though I can’t recall what had made ten year old me so upset with him. In any case, father was livid. Him and mother argued all night about what to do. Finally, he came in and had a long talk with the importance of using magic responsibly, and that he would do better to teach us so we wouldn’t harm anyone without meaning to. From then on, we had nightly lessons in the cellar after supper.”

“That’s how it should be,” Anders shook his head in a mix of admiration for her father, and jealousy that he had never had such an opportunity. “You don’t know how lucky you were, to have someone who loved you and could help you. Most mages would kill for that.”

“It wasn’t enough though, was it?” The sudden, uncharacteristic bitterness in Hawke’s voice startled Anders. “It couldn’t save Bethany, and it drove a wedge between Carver and I that I don’t think will ever go away. 

“That’s not your fault, Hawke. If there were no circle, no templars, you could have-”

Hawke waved her hands in frustration. “What does it matter, what could have been...this is how things are now and there’s nothing you or I can do to change that, other than just try to survive.”

Anders was silent a moment before replying. “But we can change it. I’ve been working towards it ever since I’ve come to Kirkwall. I know it can be done.” 

“Is that Anders talking, or Justice?” Hawke raised a skeptical eyebrow, her eyes narrowing at him. The doubt in her eyes pained him more than he cared to admit. 

“As I’ve told you, we’re one and the same now. But...even with our merger...I couldn’t make a change alone. I need help from other mages, other apostates. You would be such a credit to our cause. 

“I doubt that very much,” she pushed a dark strand of hair from her eyes, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry Anders, I’m not really interested in talking politics right now.”

Anders bit back the words that were on the tip of his tongue; words that he had been practicing in his head to try and win her over to his cause. He knew that she was resistant to it for some unfathomable reason despite her being a mage herself, knowing what her father had gone through to keep her and her family safe and out of sight. She of all people should understand the importance of all mages to have a right to live as they liked, free from under the thumb of the templars and the chantry. She herself had lived a life that most mages could only dream of!

**She knows firsthand of the injustices mages face, yet does nothing. She is selfish.**

_No. No. I can convince her...she’s important. She could make all the difference in our fight._  

**You chase her because of some foolish, base desire, nothing more. She has become an obsession of yours. How would she feel knowing of what you dream of her without her knowledge?**  

_That_  angered him. He was not like the man from his past anymore, who chased after any pretty girl or boy that showed an interest, and the insinuation that he treated someone like Hawke as such made him feel physically ill at the thought. His nighttime fantasies involving her were all he had to keep him company in his lonely cot in Darktown, and he felt a surge of self loathing towards the fade spirit that intruded on such private thoughts, and himself for being so weak.

The fissures were starting to appear in his skin again; the blue cracks glowing and releasing blue fade energy as he struggled to compose himself yet again in her presence. Her hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. He blinked away the glowing light, looking up to see her gazing down at him with a concerned expression. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you or Justice wants to hear from another mage.” She looked away from him. “It’s been over a year since Bethany died, but-”

Guilt washed over him, tightening in his belly with a cold grip. “Hawke, I apologize...it was not my intent to bring up painful memories. I really...just wanted to know more about you, that’s all. You’re like no mage I’ve met before.”

“I’m not ignorant of our plight, Anders. Maker’s breath, my whole life has been built around hiding and running because of the magic we were born with. But...I have my family to worry about. If I were dragged off to the gallows, leaving mother alone with no one but Gamlen and Carver...I...I honestly don’t know what she’d do. Carver tries hard but..I have to take care of them. I really can't involve myself in anything that would jeopardize their safety.”

“They could never take you,” Anders said firmly, feeling a surge of unrestrained anger flare in his chest at the thought. “I’d kill them all before that happened.” An image of a terrified Hawke being dragged away by the templars made him tremble in a way that went beyond mere concern for a fellow mage. 

An awkward silence stretched between them, until Hawke tilted her head and regarded him with an unreadable look. “Aren’t you supposed to get a girl flowers or something before you start with the dead templars?” A crack of a smile formed on her lips. 

Anders couldn’t help but give a little laugh at her response, letting her humor once again diffuse the tension that kept creeping up on them. She was quite good at that, and he was finding it difficult to keep himself under control around her...the urge to grab her by the head and kiss her was so strong he had to keep his gaze firmly adverted to the ground; seeing any sort of acceptance in her eyes might break the meager resistance holding him back. A part of him that Justice was struggling to hold in check wondered how she would respond to such an action. Would she part her lips and wrap her arms around his neck? Or would she push him away? 

**If she had any sense she would push you away...you have greater things to accomplish and you would only cause her pain and suffering. It would be unjust to subject her to that.**  

“I see some more elfroot patches down the path,” Hawke broke in suddenly, hefting her staff and interrupting Justice’s internal monologue in his head. Grateful for the distraction, he swallowed hard and followed her towards the roots that were growing some distance away. He hopelessly tried not to watch the way her backside swayed and the way the robes pulled on her posterior as she walked, ignoring the Fade spirit’s objections all the while. Coming here alone was beginning to seem like a worse and worse idea the more it went on; Justice was right...he was losing control around her. How long before he did something he regretted? What if he hurt her? 

He would need to be more careful going forward. 

***

Much to their dismay, the weather did begin to take a turn to the worse. They had spent much of the afternoon gathering a significant amount of elfroot, spindleweed, and much to his delight an outcrop of embrium and his pack was almost full of the herbs, enough to supply the clinic for another few weeks if he was lucky. The trip had been mostly quiet, save for a few fools that tried to take them by surprise but found themselves outmatched by a pair of trained mages. It was at the first drop of rain and a gust of icy wind that Anders turned to Hawke to suggest they head back to Kirkwall.  

“It looks like it will start pouring soon. We should go back before it gets-” 

And as if it weren’t the perfect summary of his life, the skies opened up at that moment to unleash a downpour that had them soaked to the bone within seconds; thundering and booming from the ferocity of a mid-autumn storm. 

Making it all the way back to the city was no longer an option, as the sudden storm was far too violent to travel in, and their immediate need became to seek out shelter. He could barely make out her form through the rain, and when her hand sought his out of her own accord he swallowed and was very glad the rain hid how sweaty his palms had gotten all of a sudden. 

They ran linked like that for what seemed like forever, only able to see a few steps in front of them. It was Hawke that sighted the overhanging cluster of boulders ahead, and she pulled him along with her to scout out a potential source of shelter. They were very close to the beach; Anders could smell the spray of the salt water mingling with the earthy scent of the rainfall. Much to their relief, the boulders formed a cave with a heavy overpass; creating a space that would shelter them from the storm for now.  

The opening was narrow, but they wedged themselves in, wiping the water from their eyes as they took stock of their surroundings. It was unoccupied, thank the Maker, though it had signs of being inhabited at some point; a few empty wine bottles and broken crates indicated that bandits or worse had likely taken shelter here in the past. Anders hoped they were long gone, which the dust on the bottles and wood seemed to indicate. 

“The storm could have at least given us some warning,” Hawke grumbled from behind him. He turned to look at her, unable to hide the smile at how bedraggled she looked with her short hair plastered to her forehead. Of course he himself probably didn’t look much better. The smile abruptly disappeared as she began unhooking the chain mail armor she wore over her robes. 

“Hawke...?” His voice was little more than a squeak as she gently lay the chain mail out to dry, before her fingers went towards the fastening of the leather armor she wore underneath. She looked over at him with a small amount of annoyance in her expression. 

“When the storm lets up, _I’m_ not going to be making the trek back in heavy, wet robes, thank you.” She paused for a moment, drinking in his pained expression. “Hey, we’re both adults are we not?”  

“R-right,” Anders muttered, turning away just as her robes began to slip off before his mind veered into dangerous thoughts. Still, it was true that sitting around in wet, soaked clothing would be incredibly miserable, especially with the cold chill that cut through the rock face. He shrugged off his own feathered pauldrons, the weight of the soaked feathers dropping to the ground and instantly making him feel ten pounds lighter. The quilted padding came off next, which he carefully laid out on the ground to attempt to dry in the damp air. He kicked off his boots and emptied the water that had pooled inside. 

“Ugh,” Hawke griped behind him, and when he turned he couldn’t speak as his voice caught in his throat. Her back was to him, and her robes had similarly been spread out in an attempt to dry them, and all she was left in was a simple linen shift, which she had hiked up to to the tops of her hips in order to wring out the water from the fabric, which dripped in rivulets down the side of her legs.  

And such lovely legs they were; long, smooth and pale; feminine but strong. The legs of a person who spent their life on the run. Her physique was quite a change from the soft, plump mages he’d known back at the circle, where they’d _occasionally_ received a chance to go outside for some exercise. Without realizing it, his eyes travelled from her ankles, to the backs of her knees, up to her rounded backside that was just as toned and pert as the rest of what he could see. He bit the back of his hand to hold back a moan. 

**Rein yourself in. You are lusting.**

_Did you see that arse? Cut me some slack!_

**I fail to see how her posterior differs from any other mortal’s.**

_As someone who’s seen their fair share, trust me, it’s magnificent._

Justice didn’t bother to respond to that, so he let his gaze wander for a moment longer before snapping up in embarrassment. Wanting to occupy his mind with someone other than her backside, he rummaged through the small cave to see if they had anything to start a fire with. The wooden crates were rotten and utterly sodden and practically fell apart when his hand touched it. Nothing else looked suitable either, and the chill of the storm was beginning to cling to the rocky walls of the cave. Anders shivered, reaching into his pool of mana to summon a small burst of fire. 

“That’s just going to waste your mana,” Hawke sighed, smacking his hand. The flame went out instantly. 

 “It’s freezing,” he grumbled, but she was right. If they were waylaid by bandits again they’d need all their mana untapped. 

She had her arms wrapped tightly around her chest as she shivered, looking out the narrow opening of the cave, as if trying to see through the wall of rain coming down in front. Anders tried very hard to avoid looking at the spots where her wet tunic clung so tightly to her body that he could see flashes of pink flesh through the fabric. He settled on the ground, curling up into himself to try and conserve heat. His breeches were damp and horribly uncomfortable; doubly so due to the tightness he was attempting to will away. 

“From the looks of those clouds, this probably isn’t going to let up very soon,” Hawke muttered, turning from the cave entrance to join him on the ground. Her legs were curled up to her chest for warmth, but he could see her shivering. He pointedly kept his eyes from wandering down to the expanse of thigh on display. 

“I’m sorry...about your sister,” Anders blurted suddenly, trying to distract himself from his own dangerous thoughts. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to snatch them back, and his cheeks reddened at his outburst. “Sorry, that was a bit sudden. You mentioned her earlier...it must be hard not having her here in Kirkwall with you.”  

Hawke looked away, and for a moment he thought she was angry with him. When she looked back in his direction, the grief in her face was evident. “She was a good kid,” she said after a moment, her throat tightening with emotion. “Sweet, kind and patient. Much better at dealing with Carver than I ever was, but she was his twin after all.”  

“She was a mage too, right?” Anders asked gently. Hawke nodded, running a hand through her damp hair. He knew as much from what he’d gathered from snippets of conversations between her and Carver, but he was unsure of what else to say. 

“She would have liked you,” Hawke said hollowly. “She was a healer, like you, and probably would have joined your underground movement in a second.”

“I’m sorry I never got to know her,” Anders replied hesitantly. “But if she was anything like you, I’m sure I would have liked her.”  

At that commented, Hawke looked up to meet his gaze, her mouth opened as if to respond, before she closed it again. She looked away again, pensive. It was another moment before she spoke again.  

“Are you sure about that?”  

Anders cocked his head, genuinely confused by her response. “Hawke, do you think I don’t like you?” 

“Not exactly,” Hawke sighed. “But...I can’t help like I’m constantly a disappointment to you. I’ve seen the look on your face every time you hear my response to mages and its not what you want to hear. You must think I’m awfully selfish.”  

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Anders rubbed the stubble on his chin awkwardly. “You are far from a disappointment,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have tried to push you into something you’re not comfortable with; it’s not selfish to have someone you need to protect. Sometimes, with Justice inside me now...the desire to act and plan is so strong I forget that things aren’t as black and white as they are in the Fade.” 

He could feel Justice’s anger bristling at that comment, but he ignored it. 

“Well that’s...a relief,” Hawke gave the briefest of smiles before it disappeared, but in that instant her face lit up and made the inside of his chest clench so tight he couldn’t breathe for a moment. Maker’s breath...she thought he didn’t like her? He was all but obsessed with her; hungering for any tidbit about her he could get her to reveal. And fool that he was, he didn’t realize until now that pressuring her about the mage plight was not to right way to get her to open up to him.  

“Is it okay if I ask about what it was like, with your family? I never knew an apostate who lived their whole life free with other mages.” 

“If you really want to know,” Hawke flashed him a crooked smile as she shrugged noncommittally.  

*** 

Hours had passed, though Anders was hardly aware of them as they lay on the cold cave floor. Night had fallen and left the cave in darkness, only a dim amount of moonlight penetrating through the cave’s entrance. He was hungry, ravenous even, but that mattered little in face of feeling more content than he ever had in the past year. He had spent so long being embroiled in Kirkwall’s mage politics and darktown’s sick and dying that he forgot what it was like to have a normal conversation and simply connect with someone...that hadn’t happened since well, his time in Amaranthine. 

He’d gotten her to open up about her life in Fereldan, constantly on the run and never staying in one village more than a few years. He learned that her father had entrusted her with the onus of protecting the family on his deathbed and the toll that it took on her, that she once tried to run away from home when she was seven after an argument with her father, but she stumbled across an orphaned mabari pup that urged her back, and that she had a small, poorly drawn griffin tattoo on her lower back that had caused her mother not to speak with her for a week. He learned about the Hawke siblings and what it could be like for mages to be with their loved ones and not locked up and treated as dangerous animals. 

She didn’t say it, but he was able to surmise that she struggled with guilt from not only not being able to protect Bethany, but her jealousy of how the younger Hawke sibling had been treated more delicately. Her frustrations with Carver and his sullen resentment, her mother’s lost dreams of nobility. Having to shoulder the burden of her family’s protection after her father’s passing. 

In turn, he’d regaled her with his adventures with the Wardens in Amaranthine, meeting the Hero of Fereldan, and some exploits from the circle that didn’t trigger any painful memories for him. He was rewarded with her rapt attention and her laughing with pure delight on more than a few occasions. Even with Varric and Isabela, her closest friends, he never saw her as unguarded as he did tonight. 

“You know, all Dalish women are crazy. I know this from experience...and I knew before I even met Merrill that she’d be insane. I can’t tell which is worse; Merrill’s blood magic or Velanna’s personality.” 

Hawke snorted. “Oh, come on. Their keeper seemed relatively normal, right? Like a kindly elven grandmother.” 

“She seems like it now, but I bet she has a crazy secret or two. Like a collection of severed halla heads she keeps under her bed for weird Dalish rituals involving naked dancing under the moon.” 

She laughed, trying to muffle the sound with her hands but still clear in the silence of the cave. “I’ll keep an eye out next time we’re at the camp,” she said with a loud, pronounced yawn. The yawn was contagious, and Anders was suddenly aware of how tired he was as his eyelids drooped. 

“We should get some rest,” he said, glancing over in her direction. He could just barely make out her form in the low light, seeing the flash of blue eyes as she looked towards him. “Storm could let up at any time, and we don’t want to be here any longer than necessary if any bandits come back this way.” 

“Right,” came her voice, quiet and tired sounding. She shivered again, so violently he could hear it. “Wish it wasn’t so cold in here.” 

“Yeah,” he echoed, feeling his throat grow dry all of a sudden as his mind began to conjure a hundred different ways they could stay warm that the old him wouldn’t have hesitated to say. When he heard her get up and crawl over towards him, the tension in him threatened to snap.  

“Do you mind?” she whispered, her body now silhouetted in the moonlight; her form visible through the thin linen fabric she wore. He swallowed hard. “It doesn’t make sense for us both to freeze all night.” 

**Yes we mind.**  

“N-not...if you don’t,” he breathed, struggling to keep his voice even as she settled down near him. She curled up behind him, pressed into him so that her head touched his upper back, her hands tucked to her chest as if to prevent her breasts from having to touch him. Part of him was disappointed, yet relieved...but then he could feel her warm breath through the thin fabric of his tunic and his traitorous body began responding instantly. He was thankful that he was facing away from her. 

It was a long time before he was able to find sleep. 

*** 

The first thing Anders was aware of when he woke up was how _warm_ he finally felt after a bitterly chill night. Then immediately after he became aware of the weight on his chest. A few moments passed where he tried to focus, before realizing with a start that _Hawke_ was now curled up around him. In their sleep, they had gotten twisted around so that now she was half slung over him, her head pillowed on his chest with a spot of drool hanging from her lip. 

Shocked, his body jerked upwards as if to sit up, jostling Hawke awake so that she muttered a surprised curse. He wasn’t able to fully sit up with her lying on him like that, so the movement merely caused her to slide down his lap. For one agonizing, awkward moment, they stared at each other with their cheeks blazing in embarrassment; she was pressed _right_ into his morning erection. He was about to apologize before she moved into kiss him.  

When she bent down to capture his lips, he was so stunned he couldn’t even manage a coherent response. For a wonderful, blissful moment he wasn’t thinking about Justice, mages or whatever normally consumed his mind, but just the feel of her chapped lips on his and her body pressing hotly into his own. Her lips pressed against his own, gently probing with her tongue to part them. On pure instinct, he kissed her back.  

She made a strangled sound deep within her throat when he responded, and that sound of encouragement touched something deep inside him; his hands reaching for her face to pull her closer so that he could kiss her deeper. She was panting, her chest heaving against his as he kissed her hard enough to leave him feeling dizzy, pulling her lips between his teeth and swallowing the tiny moan she uttered.  

Her breasts were against his chest, hips so close to his groin he could feel his erection prodding her inner thigh; his cock surging against his pants uncomfortably. But he wasn’t focused on that so much as he was the insistent pressure of her mouth and how nice it felt to have a soft body in his arms after so long without comfort of any kind. He threaded his hands through her dark hair as he tried to pull her as close to him as possible while her kisses became deep and lingering. At that moment he wanted her so badly that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her if she only asked; if she asked him to give up the mage’s crusade he would have agreed in an instant...anything would have been an even trade for her warm embrace and sweet smile that she so rarely bestowed on anyone. 

And it was at that moment that the balance between him and Justice shifted as the fade spirit reared its head at that revelation.  

**This. This is why you cannot have her. Your lust is a distraction to your duty. Already she is pulling you from our goals of achieving justice for mages.**

No, he wanted to argue. She was not, _could_ not be a distraction. People like her were the reason he was fighting for mages to be free, but he was only one man. A lonely, pathetic shadow of a man who wanted to hang onto something, anything that would help him maintain his tenuous grip on his humanity. 

**You are wrong. I feel the hold she has in your mind; already you are placing her above the fight for mage’s rights in Thedas.**

_But-_

**Can you be so selfish as to not see what being with you would do to her? You would make her a target. The templars would get to you through this woman and take her, make her tranquil-**

_Maker, no..._

“Anders?”

Her concerned voice brought him back, and he realized he’d spoken those last words aloud, and all at once that perfect moment shattered around as the realization of what he must do hit him with enough force to knock the air from his gut. Trembling, he looked up at her, taking in her swollen lips, heavy lidded eyes and he very nearly reached out for her again before he felt Justice’s anger, stronger this time, and his vision blurred with blue fade energy. 

“I-I...I’m sorry Hawke, I can’t-”

She drew back instantly, creating distance between them, and his traitorous body already missed her warm body against his. “I’m sorry, I thought-” she trailed off, taking a moment to take a deep breath and compose her thoughts. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

His heart lurched that her first concern was his level of comfort. “You don’t make me uncomfortable,” he wheezed, finding the words required a lot of effort to leave his mouth. “But I...we...we can’t do this.” 

Hawke’s expression turned dark. “Anders, I’ve seen the way you look at me, I’m not an idiot. I don’t want to rush anything you’re not ready for, but you can’t tell me you’re not interested.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control the emotion threatening to choke him. “Hawke, I’m sorry. It’s better this way...I’ll only hurt you...and that would kill me as surely as the templars.” 

The tiniest frown twisted in her carefully neutral expression she had adopted. Her posture straightened as she subtly adjusted her tunic to a more presentable position. “I’m a big girl, Anders. I can make my own decisions.” 

“I know that,” Anders exclaimed in frustration, sitting up to run his hands through his hair. “But I’m no good for you, you must see that. You deserve more than an dirty, possessed apostate-” 

“ _I’m_ an apostate too, remember? And I think I’m a better judge on what I deserve than you are.” 

“Hawke-” He tried to muster the words that would convince her, but she stood up and strode away from him, turning her attention towards outside the cave.  

“The storm has let up for now, we should head back towards Kirkwall.” She bent down to gather her clothing, pulling her robes over the thin fabric of her tunic. He noticed her using a little more force than necessary, making her fumble with the fastenings. When she looked back at him, her expression was neutral, only the flush on her cheeks betraying their earlier activities. “You don’t have to say any more, I’ll respect your decision.” 

“Are you alright then?”  

Hawke shot him a look that was unreadable and devoid of any discernible emotion. “It was just a kiss, Anders. I think I’ll live.”  

The words stung, but they pleased the spirit inside him even as he felt the beginnings of despair well up in him. Just a kiss? Not to him...to him it had been a fucking revelation and the first time he felt like a normal person in years. But better for her to feel that way about it than for her to be hurt. He turned and reached for his own clothing, finding them still sodden and damp. Hastily throwing his robe on, he stood up and adjusted them; feeling uncomfortable and miserable in more ways than one.  

“I hope things won’t be awkward between us,” Anders said quietly, turning towards her as she pulled her chain mail over her robes. “I still value our friendship, if you’ll have me.” 

She let out the tiniest of sighs. “We can pretend this never happened, if you’d prefer.” 

Pretend? He couldn’t pretend away what he was feeling for her, but for her sake he would at least act like it. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, hefting his staff up from the ground. “And it bears saying again...but I’m sorry.”  

“Yeah...okay,” she replied, as quiet and withdrawn as when they first met. The Hawke that had opened up to him last night was gone, and it pained him to know he was the cause of that. He hoped that in time, she could open up to him again. 

They trudged back to Kirkwall, damp, miserable and silent the whole way back. Justice was the only one pleased with the current situation, and Anders could sense his approval at the resolution of the situation. 

At least someone was. 

When they reached the city walls, Hawke gave him a perfunctory goodbye before parting with him in Lowtown, letting him walk alone back to his clinic. He collapsed in his little cot, exhausted despite the early hour.

In all, it had been a disaster as he had feared, but before he drifted across the veil he remembered her red lips and sweet face when she had looked at him, and the ghost of a smile flitted across his features.

 

FIN


End file.
